


No Beast So Fierce

by Caprichoso



Series: Ambiguity AU [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Ambiguity AU, Gen, Miraculous Ladybug PV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 03:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14155815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprichoso/pseuds/Caprichoso
Summary: There may come a day, in his stand against the Guardian, when Gabriel Agreste calls upon the man before him to take up an even greater burden... but first and foremost, Adrien needs a protector.A possible explanation for how The Gorilla came to be called such.





	No Beast So Fierce

**Author's Note:**

> This universe is the result of me smashing together the PV and canon universes in a horrible way. The general backstory was plotted out in the middle of Season 1; therefore, there is bound to be a good deal of deviation from canon, especially as more episodes air.
> 
> Set a few days prior to the funeral in Part 1. The same warning applies as before: if a character is not alive and well as of Season 1 of the main series, they are likely dead here, and the PV universe has been warped closer to the canon one from repairing the damage caused by the battle that took their lives.

_"An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told."_

_-Shakespeare, Richard III_

 

Grigorii Alexandrovich Kholodov had been many things over the years-- highly decorated paratrooper in Russia's VDV, member of an elite SOBR police unit, disgraced former cop working protection for would-be oligarchs, bouncer in a high-end Parisian nightclub. Whether in Russia or France, military or civilian, his jobs had been largely the same, when reduced to their simplest terms: he was muscle, powered by finely-sharpened instinct, with enough intellect to act autonomously but not so much as to consider second-guessing his superiors.

His particular skill set made him an ideal candidate for a job protecting high-profile celebrities such as the man standing before him. The elegantly understated card he had been handed the prior evening-- nothing but a printed address and a date and time written in pen-- along with a verbal instruction that a resume was unnecessary, was proof enough that Grigorii was well-qualified to be Gabriel Agreste's bodyguard.

He was, however, spectacularly _unqualified_  to be a babysitter.

And apparently, that was the role that Monsieur Agreste envisioned for him, in the wake the fatal car accident that had claimed the lives of both his wife and nephew just days ago.

The headlines were unavoidable, the story on everyone's lips: Alice and Felix Agreste, killed in a tragic collision when another young woman's brakes had failed. The young woman in question-- Cheng, if memory served-- was still in critical condition. It was understandable that Gabriel Agreste would want to protect the last living member of his family, but Grigorii was far from the best person to do so.

"Forgive me," Grigorii said, enunciating as clearly as possible, "I not-- I _am_  not very good with children." He kept his expression blank, but inwardly he was scolding himself: French used the verb _be_ far more often than Russian, true, but after years in this country, he should have been able to avoid such an elementary mistake.

"I disagree," came Gabriel Agreste's swift reply. Even to Grigorii's Russophone ear, the distinctly upper-class Parisian tone was evident. "I believe you are confusing a lack of experience with a lack of ability. Your track record speaks volumes."

Grigorii's eyebrows rose. "I am... a thug. A goon." Stunted as his vocabulary might have been in his second language, he was intimately familiar with these words and all their synonyms; irate patrons had screamed them in his face countless times during his tenure in Paris. "I do not understand why you think I have ability-- _the_ ability." Another slip, compounded all the more by the simple, straightforward Russian vowels that made his French sound too harsh. This was precisely why he preferred to communicate in grunts and body language.

Mr. Agreste hummed, tapping a finger against his desk. "Tell me, why did you leave SOBR?"

It was not an entirely unexpected question, but it still gave Grigorii pause. The security world was full of ex-cops, and not all had left the force honorably; the circumstances of his own dismissal showed up on a background check in a less than favorable light. Still, in all the time after the fact, he had never offered excuses, nor had he ever volunteered his side of the story. "I was given an order, and I refused to obey. I was discharged from the police for that."

"And because you didn't open fire when instructed, six hostages walked out of that building alive. I would say that is something to be proud of, wouldn't you?"

Grigorii utterly failed to keep himself from gaping at the man before him. Even if Mr. Agreste had gotten his hands on the full report from Grigorii's SOBR unit in Novosibirsk, a practically impossible task in itself, the official narrative said nothing about the casualties Grigorii had prevented. There was no conceivable way Gabriel Agreste could have discovered what really happened that day-- and yet he had, down to the number of people saved. "How... how you know that? No one--"

"You will find, Grigorii Alexandrovich, that I am much less interested in the letter of the law, and far more in the spirit." Mr. Agreste's voice was calm, level, as though he were stating the weather and not bringing up a secret buried a decade ago and a continent away. "It would have been easy for you to follow that order; no one would have blamed you, and you could have moved up the ranks at SOBR and into a comfortable retirement. Instead, you saved innocent lives, and were punished for it. You could have taken the offers for more lucrative and illicit work from the oligarchs, but instead you chose to protect, and only protect. As for the club where you were most recently employed, they might take a dim view of rescuing less well-to-do patrons and staff from the unwanted advances of wealthy, influential scum, but I can't imagine you regret doing so, do you?"

Wide-eyed, Grigorii barely managed to choke out the question his brain was screaming: "Who are you?"

Gabriel Agreste gave him the barest hint of a smile, eyes hinting at the knowledge of countless other secrets. "I am a man in possession of... unique abilities, shall we say. I use these abilities to protect others, and I believe you would be well-suited to do the same. If that chance should arise, you will be given the choice to accept a... larger role, similar to mine, about which you will be informed when circumstances permit. Regardless, in the meantime, I would like to offer you the position I mentioned at the beginning of this interview."

This man had unearthed things only a handful of people knew, secrets Grigorii had thought he would take to the grave, all as a background check for a potential babysitter. "You want me... to guard... your son?"

The air shifted to something razor-sharp and deadly; if Grigorii were on protection detail, he would already be rushing his client toward the nearest exit. "Correct. I hope that the content of this conversation impresses upon you the lengths to which I am willing to go to protect Adrien." Every hint of kindness in Mr. Agreste's demeanor had disappeared, replaced with a cold certainty that rivaled any killer Grigorii had ever seen. "He is _everything_  to me, and I will not see him come to harm, _ever_. My... secondary duties, so to speak, will require much of my attention, which means that I must be able to trust his bodyguard implicitly, as though that bodyguard were an extension of my own need to protect him. As pressing as those other duties are, I will _not_ attend to them until I have found someone who will keep Adrien safe not solely out of contractual obligation, but out of a moral imperative." He inclined his head, peering over his glasses. "I believe I have found that person, have I not?"

Despite his training, despite years of experience putting up an impenetrable front, Grigorii swallowed hard, heart pounding. There was no reason whatsoever why this unarmed stick of a man should inspire such terror, but the part of Grigorii's animal brain he'd long since learned to trust screamed of an unknown danger. "I... it is difficult to say."

As if by magic, the threatening aura permeating the room disappeared, and the man behind the desk looked almost abashed, as though he had only just realized something. "My apologies. I was... misplacing my sentiments. It will not happen again if I can help it. I suppose you should meet Adrien before you make a decision, yes?" Without waiting for a response, he pressed a button, leaning down toward the desk. "Nathalie, if you please."

No sooner had Mr. Agreste released the intercom button than the door swung open, admitting a dark-haired woman with glasses and a child, practically a toddler, whose complexion reflected that of the conspicuously absent woman in the portrait hanging in this very office.

"Mr. Agreste," the woman said, equal parts greeting, inquiry, and conclusion. Just as in their first meeting at the nightclub where she had handed him the business card, she exuded confidence and professionalism, seemingly robotic in her efficiency, yet her hand lingered on the boy's shoulder as she waited to be dismissed. Her eyes bored into Grigorii, sizing him up for the second time now. Though understated in her expressions, she was every bit as protective of Adrien as Gabriel Agreste himself.

Mr. Agreste gave a curt nod. "Thank you, Nathalie. I will handle this."

Without a moment's hesitation, Nathalie nodded, turned on her heel, and strode out of the office, leaving Adrien behind as though she hadn't just been guarding him like a mother bear with her cub. She was likely off to continue preparations for the funeral.

"Grigorii," Mr. Agreste said, rising and crossing the room to stand beside his son, "I would like you to meet Adrien."

The child stared up at Grigorii wide-eyed, perfect posture and polite smile at odds with the pain and fear in his eyes. He was struggling to cope with a shell of familial security that had been cracked wide open, revealing a world that was far larger and less caring than he had always believed. In his fragile state, the slightest upset could cause further harm.

Grigorii lowered his body, dropping into the squat that had always felt more natural to him rather than bringing his knees to the ground in a more Western fashion. "Hello, Adrien," he murmured, straining to enunciate each syllable while keeping his voice soft and non-threatening. "My name is Grigorii."

Adrien blinked. "I-Go-Ri?"

"Gri- _Go_ -Rii," Monsieur Agreste corrected. "Emphasis on the second syllable, and harder consonants."

"Gr-- Gre-- Greg--" The child's brow furrowed, his tongue struggling with phonetics that ran in stark contrast to his native language. A frustrated sigh, and the hints of tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry. I..." He trailed off, bowing his head and shrinking as far into himself as he could manage. Small arms wound their way around his front, clutching at the elbows till they trembled.

Somewhere deep in the bodyguard's memories, a young Grigorii stood in that exact pose, holding the pieces of his shattered world together as the orphanage administrator filled out countless intake forms. No one would comfort him, no one would reach out to him, and he would stumble out of that room even more broken than he had entered.

That would not happen today. Not to Adrien.

Grigorii's hand came to rest gently, ever so gently, on Adrien's shoulder. When startled green eyes snapped up to meet his gaze, Grigorii gave his most reassuring smile. "It is okay, Adrien. I have another name, if you like."

It was true, in a sense; the French slang for bodyguard, coupled with his characteristic physique, had led more than one person to brand Grigorii with the moniker. The nickname had always chafed at him, the implication that he was a mere ape loaded with a bit too much truth to wear comfortably, but it would be easier for Adrien.

And in that moment, Adrien needed comfort more than Grigorii needed his pride.

"My name is..." Pausing for a moment, Grigorii let his hand slide away from the child's shoulder, fingers curling to a loose fist that he tapped against his chest twice. " _Le Gorille_."

Green eyes blinked in confusion once, twice, three times, then Adrien let out a delighted laugh-- pure, unrestrained, innocent as only a child's laugh could be. " _Le Gorille_!" he repeated, giggling and bouncing in place. "You _are_ a gorilla! I've seen them in the zoo! They're big and strong and gentle and they take good care of their little ones, just like you're going to take care of me!"

Grigorii froze, breath catching as something nameless stirred in his chest. That nickname had always been used to highlight his undesirable traits, to strip him of his humanity-- never to suggest anything kind. And this child who barely stood to Grigorii's knee had suddenly transformed it into a badge of honor.

So lost was he in his own thoughts that the tiny body crashing into him came as a total shock, as did the fearsome embrace that accompanied it. As Grigorii stared down into blond hair, traces of moisture soaked into his shirt where Adrien's face was pressed against it. A quavering voice reached his ears, almost too low to be audible: "Thank you, Gorilla."

The glance and the gentle nod that passed between Grigorii Kholodov and Gabriel Agreste were almost a formality, a confirmation of what they both knew to be true.

From now on, he was Adrien's Gorilla, and he would not relinquish that position for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Kholod is Russian for cold, and Kholodov is the last name based off of it-- a counterpart to Sancoeur, so to speak.
> 
> Any and all comments, questions, theories, and the like will be treasured.


End file.
